Watch Me Fall and Let Me Die
by conventgirlvampire
Summary: She does not notice those hazel eyes that follow her home nor does she notice the pale fingers that haunt her dreams come to life and bring her close to a warm body.
1. Prologue

**Title:** Watch Me Fall and Let Me Die

**Chapter:** Prologue

**Characters/Pairings:** Faberry, Brittana, slight Finchel, Puckleberry and Cherry bromance, Berritana friendship, Unholy Trinity friendship, New Directions

**Word Count:** 473

**Spoilers:** Up to 3x05 Mash Up

**Summary:** She does no notice those hazel eyes that follow her home nor does she notice the pale fingers that haunt her dreams come to life and bring her close to a warm body as the haze of the sleeping pills take hold, the large amount pushing her to that final sweet oblivion.

**A/N: **Right, so it's ironic that this was the first in my notebook to type. I know exactly where I'm going with this and I have two endings in mind but don't be afraid to tell me what you think since it's not set in stone. Also, can anyone tell me if any other Faberry writer did this? I've seen it in the Finchel and Puckleberry fandoms but they always make Quinn the big bad, even when she has admitted to not hating Rachel so I really want a different perspective.

**Disclaimer:** Don't own it. Never did.

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><p>Pale fingers haunt her dreams always, memories of a hot Lima summer before high school always a distant reminder of a time before she was left behind. Every morning she wakes up with a pain in her chest that prevents her from breathing, suffocating her until she cannot take it anymore and forces herself to get up. Still, the dreams never go away.<p>

She spends her days alone now, always alone and always silent. She thinks she is the only one who cares that she is hurting, never seeing the hazel eyes that follow her in the hallways, the blue eyes that watch her in glee or the coffee-coloured eyes that yearn for the old, happy version of her in the auditorium's dark comfort.

It hurts, the desire for someone to just care always consuming her heart in its bloody flame that do nothing but destroy her slowly. She wants to stop wishing, wants to cease the endless yearning that fills her days but she needs it, needs the hope that even though her fathers are long gone, even though her mother has rejected her, even though her friends have abandoned her and her boyfriend has left her that someone will care. It is the only thing keeping her from falling apart, after all.

She finally snaps on the last day of school before the Christmas break. The bell rings for lunch and she shuffles through the hallway to the cafeteria with the rest of the masses. Her eyes are on the ground and she cannot seem to bring herself to lift her head.

She does not see them behind her. She does not feel them near her until the slick, warm tickle makes its way down her back. She flashes back to a time when she still bothered trying when she had felt the same thing. She does not turn around, does not give them the satisfaction of seeing her break, even when they surround her with cold drinks and derogatory comments about the men who brought her into the world only to abandon her when she grew to be too much for them to handle.

She skips lunch, opting instead to go home. No, it is not her home anymore. It is simply a house that holds nothing for her to return to, just the letters, CDs and enough sleeping pills to last her a year if need be. She does no notice those hazel eyes that follow her home nor does she notice the pale fingers that haunt her dreams come to life and bring her close to a warm body as the haze of the sleeping pills take hold, the large amount pushing her to that final sweet oblivion.

The only thing she can sense is the scent of rainy days and sweet lavender that she loves so much.


	2. Shelby

**Title:** Watch Me Fall and Let Me Die

**Chapter:** 1

**Characters/Pairings:** Faberry, Brittana, slight Finchel, Puckleberry and Cherry bromance, Berritana friendship, Unholy Trinity friendship, New Directions, Shelby, Jesse

**Word Count:** 2,362

**Spoilers:** Up to 3x05 Mash Up

**Summary:** She does no notice those hazel eyes that follow her home nor does she notice the pale fingers that haunt her dreams come to life and bring her close to a warm body as the haze of the sleeping pills take hold, the large amount pushing her to that final sweet oblivion.

**A/N: **Um, just a note. No one will be mentioned by name unless Rachel brings it into play. Obviously you'll know beforehand because of the chapter names whose POV it is and there'll be subtle hints as to who they're interacting with but, unless the name was mentioned in the previous chapter, it won't be mentioned until it's their turn. I hope you just understood that.

**Disclaimer:** Don't own it. Never did.

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><p><strong>Shelby<strong>

When she walks into the hospital room there are already twelve other people there. Eleven of them look at her with open hostility on their faces while only one of them looks at her with something akin to understanding.

His eyes no longer show the arrogance they once held, the reality of his life and the current situation having crushed him completely. His confidence is gone and he no longer has the energy to live that he once had. No, she took it away from him the moment she sent him after daughter. She just did not notice until now.

"What are you doing here?" one of them asks. She recognises him as the group's male lead. "You rejected her and now you're here to pretend that you care?"

She does not answer, choosing instead to sit with the Latina soloist she recognises from last year's Sectionals. The hostility she feels from both her and the blonde sitting next to her, at least, is not o much aimed at her as it is aimed at the room in general, themselves included. She understands that and is grateful that they do not attack her.

* * *

><p>An hour passes before someone enters the room. She looks up, the eyes of her adopted daughter meeting hers, much older and wearier in the young woman before her than in her baby.<p>

"Is she…" she starts to ask, trailing off as she realises that she cannot vocalise the end of her question.

The girl shakes her head. "She's still alive and she's awake. I'm not here for that, though. She asked me to deliver these and to tell you that she doesn't want any visitors."

She hands each person in the group a letter and a CD before turning and going back to the girl she left.

The older woman accepts hers without comment, knowing that if she tried to argue it would be unwanted. If she is honest with herself, she does not deserve even this much acknowledgement from the daughter she gave up. She is disgusted with herself but she will take what she can get.

* * *

><p><em>I don't know what to call you. Isn't that funny? Instead of a greeting, I start this letter immediately. It's true, though. I do not know what to call you and, more than anything else, that fact makes me feel sad.<em>

_Out of everyone else, I think you are one of the few who understand why I did this as soon as you heard the news. You and I are similar like that, you know. We both understand just how blinded by our ambition we can become that we do not see what we will become until it is too late to do anything about it._

* * *

><p>She folds the letter and places it in her bag along with the CD that the blonde had been hesitant to hand her. Their eyes had met for a brief moment and it was then that she knew that it was too late to save her. The lifelessness in those eyes said everything.<p>

Her phone rings and she answers it, knowing that it is her sitter calling to give her an update about Beth. As she listens to the woman on the other line she can only feel guilt and a strange sense of relief. She knows that she will never abandon Beth the way that she abandoned her baby girl twice. She cannot stop her guilt for that but at least her second daughter is safe and healthy.

* * *

><p><em>This is where I should ask if you regret what you did to me but, honestly? I don't really care. I don't want to know if you feel sorry for what you did. I don't need an apology and I really don't want one. No daughter should have to forgive her mother for anything and I really don't want to be the exception for that. Believe me, I don't.<em>

_Does this mean I forgive you anyway? I don't know. Ever since you came back I've been wondering if this is all a part of some plan to le me hope that we can develop some kind of relationship only for you to reject me for a third time. I mean, it wouldn't be the first time that happened to me. Do I want to? Yes._

_I think the problem is that I have never really expected much from you except for you to be in my life. That is the only way you've ever let me down._

* * *

><p>Only an hour passes before she is ready to leave. Even if her first daughter survives the night there is no guarantee that she should be present, that any of them should be present. Besides, it is getting late and she has a daughter at home too that needs her.<p>

He gets up to follow her, the boy who has lost himself, and she does not stop him. It is partially her fault that he is like this so it is only right that she be the one to comfort him now.

At the door she is stopped by the girl she had sat next to and another of the boys, this one with sad eyes that pierce through her. In a way they seem like they are related to her daughter and, God, she cannot even look at them without thinking of her now.

"You don't have to go, you know," the girl says softly and the boy nods in agreement. "I know that you think you have no right to be here but none of us do."

"The only person who should be here is in there with her right now," the boy adds after a beat. "She's in there right now and she's dying inside."

"I know," she replies looking at the two of them. They look so young at the moment that she knows that inside they feel much older. "I know that but I need to be with Beth right now."

"Probably," the boy begins, "but she is your daughter too. Don't you think that she deserves your attention? Don't you love her too?"

His words hit her hard but she stands her ground against him. She needs to because, like her daughter, she cannot allow herself to show weakness in public.

"I do but I also know that she doesn't want me right now. I don't know if she ever will."

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><p><em>Sometimes I wonder if you know that you replaced me with Beth. I wonder if you know how much it hurt when you did that right after you told me that we could never have that kind of relationship. Did you?"<em>

_Her birth mother told me once that you weren't thinking of that when you adopted Beth. She said that all you were thinking of was Beth and how much you just wanted a child to raise and call your own. Was it that? I hope so._

_She makes me understand why you do things like that, like adopting Beth or running away when you think that we were doomed from the start. I don't wonder as often now even though I used to think that I would never stop. I understand now and I really hope that Beth knows how much you love her. It took me a former enemy and all my life to know that you love me but I hope that Beth knows it instinctually._

* * *

><p>She gets home late that night. She is tired after having driven around for hours after leaving the hospital but she cannot sleep, not until the image of her daughter in a hospital bed that her mind conjures fades away. Only then will she be brave enough to close her eyes.<p>

A faint tugging at her skirt catches her attention. She looks down into the hazel eyes of her baby girl. Picking her up, she allows herself to bask in the comfort that comes with holding Beth, the comfort that she felt the first and only time she held her first daughter.

* * *

><p><em>Will you tell her about me? Will you tell her about the daughter you were finally getting to know? About the sister who was going to be there for her as she grew up? I would have liked that, you know.<em>

* * *

><p>"Beth," she breathes, holding her close as she lies on her bed, "your sister is an amazing girl, you know. So very amazing."<p>

She thinks back to the first time she saw her, the fiery, passionate girl singing her heart out as she made her way to the stage. She remembers the way her eyes lit up as she sang _Don't Rain on My Parade_ and the way she saw a better version of herself in her child.

"She's a part of me," she coos to the baby, "just as you're a part of a scared little girl who had no one to turn to. She loves you so very much just like I'll always love you and your sister. Do you they're friends now? Who would've thought."

* * *

><p><em>Sing to her, okay? That's the one thing I think I will regret with us, that I won't get to sing to her if my plan works. She's the best of two people who I never want to hurt again with my actions, the best of a boy with sad eyes and a girl with a broken smile.<em>

_Take care of them for me please? They don't know how much they're worth and I don't want them to be like that when I'm gone. I know that he's trying but she seems so lost all the time, like some part of her is broken and she can't be fixed._

* * *

><p>He shows up at her door after she puts Beth to bed, the hazel-eyed blonde with him. He sits in the armchair in silence, his expression so unreadable that she wonders if he's feeling anything at all, but the blonde just shakes her head and walks into Beth's room, needing to do something.<p>

A few weeks ago she would have stopped the girl but now she just stands in the doorway and observes her. The blonde needs this, needs to be close to the girl she gave birth to and she will not stop her.

She does not know what to do with the two teenagers but she lets them stay anyway. She knows that her daughter's actions have affected them more than they let others know except for the brunette and the blonde who had made her feel like she did not belong there. These two seemed to understand more than they let on.

She wonders what their connection to her daughter is. As far as she knows from what their teacher has told her, the girl has no friends yet there seems to be something there beneath the surface with those girls. She knows to an extent, of course, what the rest of them mean to her but those girls are a mystery that she cannot solve.

* * *

><p><em>I don't want them to suffer so don't let them wallow in their grief. Let them hate me. It's so much better for them to hate me than to hate each other. I don't want that. I want them to be happy, please.<em>

* * *

><p>Hours pass and she can no longer bring herself to remain in that house while her daughter is in the hospital. She gathers the two teenagers and Beth and goes back to that place, hoping she will not be denied again.<p>

This time she is allowed to go into the room to see her daughter but she hakes her head, pointing to the boy with sad eyes.

"He should go before me," she says, the words hurting as they leave her mouth. "He's her brother."

It is only a technicality that she is lying about their relationship because they might as well be related. She cannot count the number of times that she has spoken about her with him only to have him ramble on about her daughter as if she meant the world to him. She wants to believe that this is exactly how he feels bout her because it means that his eyes are not so sad all the time.

She glances over at the hazel-eyed girl who only stares at her with a puzzled expression. She knows that the girl is confused by her actions and she just shrugs, also knowing that when he returns she will understand. After all, as much as she thins she is like her daughter, she is also like this girl, too much like her.

* * *

><p><em>Am I asking too much of you? Am I placing too much on your shoulders all at once? I don't know the answer for that as much as I don't know whether to call you Mom, mother or Shelby. All I know is what I want and I hope you understand that.<em>

* * *

><p>When he comes back she decides to go in, only pausing to glance at the girl beside her who finally seems to understand when she sees the light in his eyes as he sits next to her. She nods to them and the other two ex-Cheerios as she passes them.<p>

She stops at the door to her daughter's room, hand over her mouth as the tears silently roll down her cheeks. She looks to tiny and, maybe not vulnerable, but definitely fragile as she sleeps. She looks so calm, as if she had not tried to take her own life recently.

Movement draws her eyes up to the girl's face and they meet dark eyes as sharp as her own, as sad as the boy's and as broken as the ex-head Cheerio. She is a combination of the three of them, combining the experiences they have shared and her own to create something is just so unique.

Looking at her daughter and the unasked question in her eyes, she cannot help but blurt the words the girl has always been waiting to hear.

* * *

><p><em>I love you Mom and I always have. I just hope you can forgive me.<em>

_Your daughter,_

_Rachel._

* * *

><p>"I love you too."<p> 


End file.
